Come Back To Me
by MyNameIsCrazy
Summary: Grace finally asks about her mother. A topic Jefferson was hoping to avoid for the res of his life. What happens when a strange package arrives early one morning with a strange object in it? What kind of whirlwind adventure will he embark upon? Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

_In Storybrooke:_

"Papa, what was Mommy like?"

Jefferson turned around. Little Grace was standing there in his studio, in her nightgown, holding her bunny, her toes curled under. She was supposed to be in bed, upstairs, but she was standing here. He looked down at his little girl with bewilderment, but soon shook his head and smiled. He led her into the living room and sat her down. She peered over her bunny's ears and looked at him. He sat down on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but his mouth went dry and his stomach twisted in knots.

He didn't know what to say about his wife. Her name, he had long since refused to even utter he was so distraught by her loss. But, determined to tell his little girl about her mother, he brought himself to say her name again.

"Your mother, Elora," he started, but almost choked.

"Papa, are you okay?" Grace asked, looking at him with concern. Jefferson looked at her and smiled, rubbing his neck. He cleared his throat and started again.

"Your mother, well, she was very beautiful..."

* * *

><p><em>The Enchanted Forest:<em>

Jefferson sat in the market, trying to sell the hats he had made, but no one seemed to want them. He slumped on his chair and dropped his chin into his hand, grumbling miserably. He looked at the ground in front of his stall and saw a long brown skirt come into view. Jefferson looked up and saw the most beautiful girl standing in front of him. She smiled at him and opened her small pouch. Taking out two gold coins, she placed them on the table and picked up the hat in front of her.

It was a sloping top hat made of crushed velvet, wide at the top, with a curved brim and a pink satin ribbon. She leaned over the stall and placed it on his head, his face one of utter bewilderment.

"Wha..what are you...?" he asked, stuttering.

"People won't buy them unless they know what they look like on," the girl smiled. "By the way, I think that hat looks good on you," she added. She turned around and walked away, smiling over her shoulder and waving as she went. He looked at her leave and she disappeared into the crowd.

"Miss me already?" said a soft voice behind him. He felt hands on his shoulders and he turned around to see her standing there, her face close to his. She smiled and stepped back, pulling up another chair and hanging her cloak on a hook.

"Need any help?" she asked. All Jefferson could do was sit there and stare at her. She chuckled and picked up a pretty blue hat and placed it on her head, tipping it forward on her head. It looked quite pretty against her black hair. Jefferson looked at her and she smiledm turning back to the stall.

"Oh! I never told you my name!" she smiled. "I'm Elora." She held her hand out and Jefferson took it, trying to be polie, but at the same time not awkward.

It was late by the time the two headed back. He hadn't sold any hats, but he earned something more. The companionship of a beautiful woman. Elora was perfect in his eyes. They went to a local tavern for dinner and, proclaiming she had to get home, he took her back to her home.

It was a modest place, by the coast, a small beachfront cottage. And lovely on the inside.

"Its just me living here. Since I live close to the market and you probably have to be there tomorrow..." she started, but Jefferson cut her off.

"I live quite a distance, at least a day's journey from here," he started, implying that he wished to stay overnight.

Elora beamed. "You're welcome to stay here," she offered. Jefferson smiled.

"Your hospitality is too great," he complimented. "I am not going to sell at the market tomorrow, but I wish to stay all the same, and get an early atart back home tomorrow morning," Jefferson added. Elora knew it was all just a ploy to stay over night, but she saw no harm in it, so she let him stay.

"You can sleep down here. I will find a mat for you. Or there is my brother's bedroom upstairs. He left for the ogre wars a few months ago and was killed on the battlefields. Its time I open that room once more," she said, smiling through her grief.

* * *

><p>As he continued, Grace listened intently to the story of her mother.<p>

"In wish I could've met her before she died," she said mournfully. Jefferson looked at Grace with a sad look in his eye. "I know how much you loved her, Papa. I can see it in your eyes."

Jefferson pulled her into a tight hug, closing his eyes. She was the only thing he had left of his wife. The one person he treasured above anyone else. If he lost Grace, her daughter, their child that... Even at the thought of her made his eyes sting hot with tears.

"Now go to bed. Its late. I will tell you more tomorrow," he whispered. Grace smiled softly and nodded, hugging his round the neck and kissing his forehead before leaving the parlour. Once she was gone, Jefferson stood and walked to a picture on the window sill. It was a sketch of Elora that he had made when she was still alive. It was her, facing over his shoulder,her left cheek to him, her eyes off in the distance, her mouth smiling widely.

He loved to sketch her. She was the perfect model. A tear leaked out of his eye and Jefferson wiped it away hastily and harshly, trying to be brave for his little Grace. But it was so hard. Elora was gone. The light of his life and his reason for living snatched from him so early.

The next morning, there was a sharp rapping at the front door to the large home and, Jefferson, dragging himself out of bed, plodded downstairs in his burgundy silk pajamas and ran a hand through his messy hair as he reached the front door. He opened it and looked around. When he saw no one, he made to close the door, but a the welcome mat drew his attention. Stooping to pick it up, he brought it inside and closed the front door.

He took the package to his studio and cut it open with a pair of scissors.. Inside the package was a note and a small object wrapped in bubble paper. Unfolding the note he read it over quickly.

_I believe this is yours somehow_ was the only thing the note said. Opening the bubble paper first, he pulled out a porcelain figurine of a woman dancing, her arms up as though blocking something. He looked closely at the face and nearly dropped it. They were the same colour as Elora's.


	2. Chapter 2

Jefferson gaped in disbelief at it and nearly dropped the figurine. It slipped from his fingers and he quickly regained a hold of it. The figurine was wearing the same things that Elora had been wearing the day she disappeared. A pale blue dress with embroidered violets and a pink waistband. A purple cloak hung about the figurine's shoulders and a basket dangled from her left elbow.

Cradling the statue in his elbow, he took it into his studio and placed it on the table. Resting his elbows on his knees, he rested his chin on his folded hands, staring at the figurine. He longed for his beloved wife again, to hold her svelte body in his arms. To run his hands through her dark locksonce more. To feel her lips on his. To hold her in his arms in the middle of the night as she dreamed, watching her eyes flutter, and listen to her mutter words indescernable to his ears.

"Papa, what's that?" a small voice said from the studio door. Jefferson jerked to attention and looked to see Grace standing there, clutching her bunny once more. He smiled weakly.

"This is a statue of your mother," he replied. "I commissioned it when she..." His voice trailed off. "When she died. Its the last thing I have to remind me of her." Grace walked over to her papa and put a hand on his shoulder. Jefferson reached up and embraced her tightly. She was the last thing he had to remind him of his beloved Elora.

* * *

><p>Jefferson nodded to take the room and Elora headed upstairs with a key from a hook on the wall. He followed her closely and walked into the room first when she opened it. He looked around the room and walked to the bed and sat down. Besides being severely dusty, it was comfortable.<p>

"My brother liked hunting swans. This was his cottage that he came to when he went hunting," Elora explained, implying that the bed was made from swan down.

"What was your brother's name?"

"Siegfried. My sister-in-law's name was Odette. Perhaps you heard of them?"

"Your brother was a prince," Jefferson said bewildered, pointing at her. Elora shuffled her feet.

"Shall I make us some supper?" she suggested, changing the subject.

"You're a princess!"

"About supper," Elora asked. She wanted to get off the subject of her lineage and speak of something more important, but Jefferson wouldn't hear it.

"Your brother was Prince Siegfried, his wife was Odette, the swan queen! When Siegfried died, she passed of a broken heart. You're next in line!" Jefferson exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pointing at her accusingly. Elora turned btight red ad bit her pouty bottom lip nervously. Glancing around, she shifted her weight once more, and opened her mouth to talk about dinner again, but Jefferson stepped up to her and glared down at her.

"Tell me the truth," he hissed. "Your _highness._" Elora glared up at him, but was somehow lost in his eyes. They were wide and youthful, a bright blue. Full of life and d energy.

The closer he got to her, the more beautiful she really was. Her vivid green eyes were as green as a field at the height of summer. Her pale skin had a tint of pink and her black hair was actually really dark brown. They glared at each other until she finally cracked.

"Yes! I am! I am Princess Elora! I ran away from home, aright? Is that the answer you wanted? I didn't want to be a princess anymore. Didn't want the responsibility. The constant supervision. I wanted to be free. Now, in my place, my younger brother is on the throne and doing a damn good job of ruling our kingdom!" Elora shouted. Jefferson looked at her and she looked back. Her responce had startled his greatly. She lived such a rustic lifestyle that he never would've suspected that she was a princess in the first place.

As he got past the initial shock that she was a distant princess, rejecting her crown, he smiled. She had more bravery than cowardice to reject her family like that. It took a gutsy risk to up and leave the people who raised you. Who love you, no matter what you did or who you are. She was braver than anyone he ever met.

Elora walked downstairs to the kitchen and started to prepare lamb and cabbage stew with a thick bread and sweet cakes for dessert. Jefferson followed her downstairs and took a seat at the kitchen table, kicking his feet up and propping them up on the corner.

"Ah ah ah," Elora said, wagging her finger at him and swatting his boots off the table. Jefferson smirked and swung his legs down and crossed them at the knee.

They ate supper in silence, the only noise being that of the cat, purring contentedly on Elora's lap. Jefferson looked at her every now and then, trying to catch her eye.

* * *

><p>"Papa, will you tell me more about my mama?" Grace asked delicately as they walked to the kitchen together to have some breakfast. Grace sat down at the table while Jefferson walked around, getting things out for pancakes and scrambled eggs.<p>

"Alright," he said. He would deny her daughter nothing. As he made breakfast, he told her stories about her mother. Her bravery, her kindness, her generosity.

"On top of everything," Jefferson concluded. Grace looked expectantly at her papa and he smiled. He turned to his little girl and placed her breakfast in front of her.

"On top of everything, your mother was a princess."


	3. Chapter 3

"You! You brought it to my house, didn't you?"

"Jefferson, how nice of you to drop by. How are you? How's Grace?"

"Where did you find it?"

"Find what?"

"You know exactly what."

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to be clearer than that. What is this '_it_' you keep mentioning?"

"This old place is full of odd curios and missing things. Why not have a missing person, too? You cursed her! Didn't you? You forced her to make a deal! Then you turned her into a breakable object, and somehow she wound up in the wrong hands!"

"I don't believe it's-"

"She."

"My apologies. _She_ is in the wrong hands _now_, is she? You have _her_ now, dpmon't you? As for what happened to her, I am not responsible for that. If I was, I'd turn her back. Reunite the happy family."

"Try."

"Try what?"

"To turn her back. You of all people must know how to turn her back. You're a professional at turning people into things and turning them back, aren't you?"

"I admit, I am very adept at my skills. But this is beyond my powers. I cannot help you. My apologies."

Jefferson glared at Mr. Gold and took the porcelain figure off of the counter top and walked out of the shop, but not without one last glance back at the useless Dark One. He tucked the statue back into his pocket and stalked down the street, a single tear streaking down his face.

* * *

><p>She laughed as he took her in his arms, waltzing to imaginary music. They twirled around her small home, his arm around her waist, her arm around his neck, their free hands clasped together.<p>

"Come to my brother's birthday ball with me," she said suddenly. Jefferson stopped moving and the momentum immediately halted as well. He gaped at her and she looked right back at him. "Please."

He still continued to gape at her, disbelievingly. He didn't know how to respond. She broke away from his arms and covered her face with her delicate hands, which had begun to turn red. She laughed behind her fingers and he started to as well. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and gently pulled her hands away from her face. Jefferson smiled at her and she smiled back.

"I'd love to go with you," he grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

At the ball, Jefferson felt so out of place. Elora though, fit right in. Her hair was piled high on her head in a mess of rich black curls, and her dress looked as though it had been made of lavender. She glided around the room, talking to people she knew from a life long ago, and blended in like she had never left it.

The music cued up and Elora glided around Jefferson, her hand outstretched, waiting for him to take it. He took it and she smiled.

"Just to warn you now, I have no idea what I'm doing," Jefferson whispered, barely audible. Elora smiled.

"That's okay. Neither did Siegfried. That's why Mother had magical shoes made for him that _did _know how to waltz. And luckily for you, you're wearing them," Elora beamed. She made to move and, by magic, Jefferson began to sweep her around the room, seemingly knowing exactly what he was doing.

The two glided around the room, the center of attention and the main topic of every conversation.

"Isn't she the princess?"

"Who _is_ that man with her?"_  
><em>

"Where did she go?"

"Poor thing, must have been grieving. I heard she and Prince Siegfried were extremely close."

Whispers haunted her all night, driving her mad. "I'm sick of them whispering. Let's go out to the gardens," Elora said as the finished their third waltz. Jefferson grinned.

"I thought you'd never ask. My feet are killing," he chuckled. Elora smiled sweetly and the two headed out of the hall. In the gardens, they were completely alone. Not a soul was outside. As they walked, she twirled around low fruit trees as he strolled alongside her, his hands clasped at his back. She seemed to glide along the path as they walked, the moonlight glancing off her dress in beams.

She looked so pretty. Her pale face gleamed in the moonlight, her dark hair shone dark blue. Her green eyes turned ocean blue and her lips a light shade of lavender. Jefferson stepped in her path and smiled. Elora looked at him with surprise.

"Jefferson? Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Wonderful, actually," he replied.

* * *

><p>Late that night, he sat awake in bed, staring at the figurine in his hands. Tears filled his eyes and he set the figurine aside and turned the light off before scooching down and covering his shoulders with the maroon comforter. He closed his eyes tightly, squeezing the tears out. They ran over his temples and onto the pillow.<p>

He rolled over onto his side and nearly screamed. He blinked a few times, but she was still there.

Elora was in his bed next to him, staring back at him with a slight smile on her lips. She raised her hand and put it to his face, still smiling. Tears continued to spill from his eyes and he moved his hand to place it over hers.

But it was gone. He opened his eyes, thinking she had left, but she was still there.

"Why can't I feel your hand?" he whispered, pleading. Elora only smiled.

"Please, speak to me. Say something. Anything!" But she only looked at him, smiled and blinked. He made to shake her but he only fell through the illusion that was her. He landed face down in his maroon sheets, weeping bitterly.

* * *

><p>Late that night, they called their carriage to return to Elora's cottage, but a woman's voice called them back.<p>

"Elora, my darling!" Elora turned around to see her mother hurrying down the steps to catch her.

"Mother," Elora said in great surprise. "How lovely to see you again."

The queen smiled at her daughter and then at Jefferson. "Why don't you two stay here for the night? Travel home in the morning? It's a long journey to your brother's cottage," the queen said. Elora noticed that she avoided saying Siegfried's name. It had been ten years already, but she still felt the pang of losing a son.

With her son gone, and her daughter here, she felt almost whole. Elora looked at Jefferson who looked at the queen.

"We'd love to. Thank you, mother," Elora said finally. The queen smiled and led the two back into the castle. The three of them walked through the halls of the castle and Jefferson looked around in utter awe. Elora seemed bored with the grandeur and and folded her arms over her cloak. The queen stopped at a large pair of double wooden doors and held her arm out.

"Elora, your old room," she said, her face and mannerism a bit pained. Her daughter stepped forward and opened the door. He caught a glimpse of a golden room filled with ivory accents and a high ceiling painted like the mid-day sky. A large canopy four poster bed stood against the wall diagonally opposite the door and two pairs of glass double doors led to a balcony which extended to the room next door. She walked in and shut the door abruptly, surprising Jefferson rather mildly.

"Dear, your room is next door," the queen said, motioning down the hall.


End file.
